


The Righteous Man Meets His Maker

by Lynx22281



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-08 16:51:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynx22281/pseuds/Lynx22281
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is in the middle of completing the final trial when Dean gets whisked away to a familiar place to have a chat with the Big Man Upstairs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Righteous Man Meets His Maker

“It’s just you and me, Baby,” Dean said as he slid his right hand along the Impala’s dashboard. Sam was in the middle of completing the third trial and a horde of angry demons was headed their way. Castiel had stayed with the Winchesters as along as he possibly could before disappearing to protect the angel tablet and leaving the brothers without any Heavenly help. Dean hoped he could create enough of a distraction can buy his brother time to finish his task. It probably wouldn’t work, but he had to try. He stomped down hard on the accelerator and drove headlong into the swirling mass hurdling towards their location as _Highway to Hell_ blasted through the speakers.

An inky cyclone of demonic auras freight trained towards the black muscle car in the ultimate game of chicken. Dean gritted his teeth together and pushed the pedal further into the floor. The Impala’s engine growled fiercely over the screaming whine of rushing demons as the distance between the car and the cloud shrank. Fingers of dark smoke reached out towards the car. As darkness enveloped the car, its long hood buckled like an accordion against an immoveable otherworldly force. Steel groaned under pressure as the chassis twisted and broke apart. Several dozen cracks spread out across the windshield before it shattered, showering the inside with tiny shards of glass. 

Dean threw one arm up to protect his face as he fought to keep control of the steering wheel with the other. He closed his eyes against the cascade of glass flying into the car’s cabin. The car was just one more sacrifice to make sure the gates of Hell were closed for good, but she had been rebuilt before and Dean would rebuild her again, if he survived.

The darkness behind Dean’s eyelids glowed bright. He barely had time to realize that the illumination was coming from a divine source before sound and light vanished. He had the strange sense of being suspended, weightless for a second before gravity took over and he fell, still sitting up, onto something soft.

He really didn't want to open his eyes. In times past, opening his eyes after a catastrophic event had revealed Hell, Purgatory, and a warped Heaven. If he could prolong the inevitable for a few seconds, then he would. Dean soon recognized that the muted noises his ears were picking up didn’t sound like the roar of hellfire or the wail of the wind in Purgatory. Instead, he heard the faint whispers of street traffic. Cautiously, he opened one eye.

Dean was sitting in a slightly cluttered apartment that appeared to be at least one story up from the ground if the view out of the tall windows to his right was true. He opened his other eye and gazed around curiously. The place seemed familiar, but not in the way that having physically been somewhere before felt familiar. This felt more like a place he had seen, but never actually been to. There was a fireplace directly in front of him, flanked by two mismatched arm chairs. An odd assortment of knickknacks, including a human skull, sat on the mantel over the fireplace. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the wall was covered in a graphic, two-tone floral wallpaper. A yellow smiley face had been spray painted just left of the center of the wall.

Forgetting momentarily about the tablets and the trials, Dean jumped up from the leather couch he had apparently landed on and ran into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator door. There was a dead man’s head sitting on the shelf. He would never admit that the sound that came out of his mouth was as fangirl squeal.

“Hello, Dean,” came a posh British voice from behind him.

He spun around expecting to see someone completely different from the person actually standing in the doorway leading back into the living room. His eye brows shot up in disbelief. “George Carlin?”

“Not exactly,” the man said with a gentle smile. The man did indeed look exactly like George Carlin, from his bald head and neat ponytail to his white beard and mustache. But, Dean was pretty sure George Carlin was A) dead and B) not British. The other man wore a heather gray suit with white button down shirt and a black tie. He held himself with a dignified posture, almost like there was a pole up his backside.

Dean flinched as he recognized the stance and the dress. “You’re an angel.”

“Wrong again,” pseudo-George said with as he turned and walked over to the leather chair that faced the kitchen. He gestured to the other chair, offering Dean a seat. A tray of tea sat on the spindly round table next to the leather chair.

Dean warily watched him from the far side of the kitchen, decidedly not moving any closer to the stranger especially since he didn’t seem to have a single weapon anywhere on his person. He was pretty sure Ruby’s knife had been tucked in his jacket when he was in the Impala. The thought of the Impala made him cringe slightly. He remembered hearing the tell-tale snap and pop of the chassis being torn apart just before he appeared in this apartment. “You’re not a demon. They aren’t nearly so…” Dean waved a hand up and down, gesturing towards the man, “..classy. Except Crowley, but he loves that meatsuit too much to switch to another one.”

“You are correct in that assumption. I am not Crowley.” The man began to pour tea into one of the cups on the table. “And, this is not Hell.”

Dean edged closer to the doorway between the kitchen and living room. Somewhere deep down, he knew that this wasn’t Hell or Purgatory. It felt different. His body didn’t buzz with the tangible feeling of threat that overpowered both places. Still, as he leaned against the doorframe, he really couldn’t explain why he was at 221B Baker Street in London. It seemed like the time Gabriel kept putting him and Sam in different TV shows or the time they fell through another dimension where Bobby’s house was a set in a TV studio.

“Limbo,” the older gentleman remarked, without prompting as he held out a teacup and saucer for Dean.

The hunter pushed himself away from the door and crossed the few steps over to accept the offering. He sat down in the empty chair. “Limbo. Isn’t that the same thing as Purgatory?”

“Not at all.” The man fixed himself a cup.

Dean took a tentative sip of the hot beverage and was very surprised to find that it was exactly as he liked it, sweet with the slight tartness of lemon.

“Purgatory is a place of punishment, where souls go to do penance.” Not-George slid a spoon through his milky tea, gently clinking at the side of the cup. “Most souls don’t spend much time in Purgatory before ascending. But, some souls, as you are well aware, spend much longer there and have little hope of ever being released to Heaven. Limbo is more like Heaven’s waiting room. Sometimes a soul isn’t granted immediate ascension, but there is no penance required of it to get into Heaven. Limbo is actually quite pleasant, like Earth on a regular day when nothing spectacularly bad has happened, but nothing wondrously good has happened either.”

“Ok, and you’re what? Headmaster of Limbo?” Dean rested his saucer and cup on his knee. That this was similar to the scene in _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_ where Harry and Dumbledore have their final conversation in Harry’s head wasn’t lost on Dean.

“Third strike, Dean,” he said with a chuckle as he set his cup down on the little table next to him. He leaned forward and with a stage whisper admitted, “I’m God.”

Dean blinked, sitting up ram-rod straight, body tensing. His mind wasn’t even capable of denying the admission. As soon as the words were stated, he knew they were the truth. Years of unanswered prayers and the loss of any shred of faith in the Almighty that might have been instilled in him by his mother over 30 years ago came crashing down on him in a flood of rage. Anger spewed from his lips before he could stop it. “You son of a bitch! It’s bad enough we had to watch everyone we ever loved die, but to keep bringing us back over and over, just to have it happen again. You could have stopped everything! The Hell gate opening, the Apocalypse, the Leviathan…”

Dean shot up to his feet, not caring that the teacup fell to the floor with a clatter, and began pacing in the middle of the room. He was incapable of expressing his fury and pain in words any longer. His mouth had gone dry and hot tears welled up against his lashes. His hands shook as he threaded his fingers through his hair.

Flashes of memories played out in front of him so vividly that they were projected around the room. His mom and Jess burned on the ceiling above him as the heat of the blaze rushed around his head. To his right, his father’s soul smiled at him as it crawled out of Hell. The sulfuric odor of brimstone filled the room. To his left, Sam jumped into the cage with Michael riding Adam. Wind whipped around him rustling papers on the desk between the windows as the ground opened up. When he turned, he saw the hardware store explosion that took Ellen and Jo. The shockwave from the blast forced him to close his eyes. When he opened them again, Bobby, with his head covered in white bandages, smiled at him for the last time from the mirror over the mantle. Gabriel lay at his feet with the shadow of his great wings burned into the floor. The strong scent of ozone rose up, overpowering the rotten egg smell of brimstone. Through the reflection of the windows he watched Benny’s head slip from his shoulders with a ghost of a smile still curving his lips. Turning again, he watched as Castiel walked out into the middle of the reservoir and disappeared into a swirl of black water. He looked down at his hands to see them wet and stained with black oil. 

Each agonizing memory twisted an invisible knife into his chest, bringing him to his knees. He bent in on himself, shaking with emotion that threatened to drive him mad if not for the hands that firmly gripped his biceps and forced his body to be still. When he opened his eyes, he was startled to see God on his knees before him with a very sorrowful look on his face. 

“Dean,” he began. “I’ve had faith in you since the moment I created your soul, even though I knew that faith wouldn’t be returned. You have been given only as much as you were capable of handling, and you, my boy, are capable of handling anything that gets thrown at you.”

He helped Dean back into the chair and handed him a perfectly mended cup full of tea. God gave the hunter’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he settled back in the opposite chair. With a sigh, the creator admitted, “But, things have gotten too far out of control and the responsibility of fixing it shouldn’t fall to you any longer. Your role as the Righteous Man is finished.” 

"About damn time,” Dean muttered quietly as he raised the teacup shakily up to his mouth. The warm drink offered a simple comfort that calmed him enough to talk again. “So, can you just reset things? Because that would be awesome.”

The corners of God’s mouth turned down slightly. “Unfortunately, no. I used my one redo on the Flood.”

Dean raised a brow. “One redo? The Almighty only gets one mulligan?”

“I am bound by certain rules and restrictions.”

“Like what?” the hunter asked incredulously, anger flaring again.

“Free will, mainly.”

Dean huffed softly and took a frustrated gulp of tea that almost choked him. While he never liked blindly believing in fate or destiny, free will hadn’t made things easier on anybody. Clearing his throat with a cough, he set the cup on the table and leaned his elbows on his knees. “Well, what do you plan on doing?”

“I will mend things to the best of my ability, but the free will I gave to mankind prevents me from undoing most of the choices that humanity made.”

“Does Sam have to go through the last trial?”

“Your brother must complete his task, but he is almost finished. I set up a perimeter of protection around him before bringing you here. He will be successful, and the gates of Hell will be permanently closed.”

“Ok.” Dean nodded staring off at nothing in particular while he digested that piece of information and relaxed slightly. His eyes shifted down to his hands clasped together between his knees. “What about Cas?” 

God studied Dean for a several seconds, gray eyes lingering on the young man’s left shoulder. “Castiel is safe.”

Dean inhaled deeply and sank back into the chair on the exhale, rubbing a hand over his face. A weight had been lifted off of his shoulders with the realization that two most important people left in his life were protected for the time being. “What happens after Sam finishes? Does he come here?”

God gave Dean a reassuring smile. “No, Sam will live.”

“What about me? How long do I hang out here before I…uh…,” he snorted softly and made a little upward gesture with his hand, “…ascend?”

“You’re not dead, Dean. I would have thought for a man who has died so many times, you’d remember what it felt like.” God chuckled softly. “I brought you here so we could talk privately and so I could offer you a gift.”

“A gift?” Dean lifted his eyes, giving God a skeptical look. 

“Yes,” he replied with a magnanimous nod. “I want to give you your deepest desires.”

“Oh, so you’re a Djinn now?” 

God chuckled. “I won’t drain your blood and the requests I grant won’t be hallucinations.”

Dean pushed up from the chair, taking two steps over to the fireplace to fidget with the tchotchkes on the mantle. He picked up the skull. Despite his initial uncertainty, he knew God was telling the truth. Maybe that tiny sliver of faith from his childhood hadn’t completely died. “What’s the catch? There has to be one.”

“Not a catch, per se, but unfortunately, I am unable to bring anyone back from the dead.”

Dean looked up sharply. There went over half of the things he wanted most. “You’ve brought people back before.”

“Yes,” God said, sheepishly. “But that was when I wasn’t on the outs with Death.”

“On the outs with Death?”

“He’s still mad at me that I couldn’t control one of my own sons.”

“Lucifer?”

God nodded. “He didn’t appreciate being bound to Lucifer.”

“But you brought Cas and Bobby back after Lucifer killed them.”

“Technically, I don’t bring people back at all. I can request to have a life returned and Death can choose to make it happen, if he deems it appropriate. You know he doesn’t like to alter the natural order of things. But, occasionally he will grant life as a reward. Breaking him free from Lucifer was worthy of such a reward for Castiel and Bobby.”

“Some all-powerful god you are.” Dean muttered under his breath as he turned the skull over in his hands.

“I create life. Death takes life. Death cannot create life, and I cannot restore what he has taken. He can undo a death, but must take another soul in its place.”

Dean’s eyes slid over to the man sitting in the leather chair. Guilt wrapped around him like a familiar motel blanket, scratchy and suffocating. “All those times I died and came back, somebody else had to die in my place?”

“Blame is not on you, Dean. Death always makes very careful decisions and does not alter what he has done without good reason. In his own way, he was trying to fix what I could not.” God steepled his fingers together in front of him, pinning Dean with a look of slight annoyance. “We’re off topic.”

“Right.” There was no time to wallow. Dean rubbed his jaw with his fingertips. “So, my deepest desires, excluding bringing back everyone who died?”

God nodded.

Without hesitation, Dean looked straight at God. “Sam gets his white picket fence life. Finishes school. Finds a girl. Has a family. Hell, even gets a dog he can keep. Everything he’s ever wanted. Lives until he’s at least 70. He’s happy and healthy and doesn’t have to do your dirty work ever again.”

“Granted. What else?”

“Cas is forgiven for whatever he’s done against Heaven and he’ll never be manipulated again. He…” Dean stumbles over his words, his voice failing him for a second. “He gets to go home.”

Purgatory had changed their relationship, and while he was reluctant to delve too deeply into that uncertain and uncomfortable area, Dean had actually begun to examine his feelings for the angel. As much as Dean wanted to keep the angel close to rebuild their friendship or take the leap into something else, he had no right to make him stay. Castiel missed the presence of his brothers and sisters, missed the full power of his Grace, missed being welcome in the place where he was created. He cradled the skull between his palms, gently stroking its bony cheeks with his thumbs.

God’s face softened slightly, but he watched Dean expectantly.

He cleared his throat, pulling his mind away from Castiel for the moment. “Jimmy goes back to his family. He’s more than done his duty to Heaven as a vessel. Amelia and Claire deserve to have him back.”

When God didn’t make any motion to keep Dean from going on, the hunter continued. “Kevin and his mom go back to their lives. Kevin gets into whatever school he wants to and he goes on to be great at whatever it is he does.”

“Anything else?” God asked.

Dean is quiet for a minute, mulling over his last wish. It was a long shot. “Adam and Benny.”

“I can’t bring them back to life, Dean,” he gently reminded him.

“Yeah, I know.” He set the skull back down on the mantle and sat down again. “But, Sam got Bobby’s soul out of Hell. Could you at least get Adam’s soul out of the cage and shorten Benny’s time in Purgatory?”

God considered the request for a moment before replying. “Yes, I can raise their souls to Heaven.”

Dean gave a satisfied nod and leaned back in his seat, indicating he was finished.

God tilted his head slightly to one side, a gesture that reminded Dean of Castiel. “You didn’t ask for anything for yourself.”

“Those are the things I want the most,” Dean said with a shrug. From the bottom of his bruised and battered soul, he only ever wanted his family and friends to be safe and happy. As long as their lives were good, he could be content with his lot. In his book, being content was just as good as being happy.

Before God could respond, the doorbell at the bottom of the stairs rang. Dean stared at the Almighty with a silent question.

“Sam has finished the last trial. The gates are closed.”

“Kinda anti-climactic, doncha think?”

God just smiled and rose from the chair, heading downstairs with Dean following along. He rested his hand on the brass doorknob as he took a moment to look at the hunter. His smile brightened with a hidden secret. “While I enjoyed our chat, I’m happy to say that we won’t have another for a very, very long time.”

“Just one question,” Dean said as God turned the handle to open the door.

God paused.

“Why this?” He waved a hand around indicating their present location.

A sly grin spread out across God’s face. “I know you’re a Cumberbitch, Dean.”

Dean palmed the back of his reddening neck. “Yeah, well. That guy has gorgeous eyes.”

“You have a thing for guys with pretty eyes, don’t you?”

Dean’s head whipped up in surprise, but God pushed him through the doorway into a blinding white light before Dean could say anything.

He expected to fall, but his boots connected with a hard surface not much further away than a single step. The light dissipated and Dean found himself standing in the middle of the bunker’s library. The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the ventilation system and buzz of electricity. A sense of calm that he had only just begun to get used to over the last few months washed over his body. He was home again.

The blast door leading to the outside creaked loudly as someone opened it. Dean walked towards the war room to get a better view of the landing above.

“Dean!?” Sam called out before even getting a glimpse of his brother.

“Sammy!” Dean replied with a big grin as he watched his moose of a brother race down the iron-wrought staircase. 

Sam tackled him before his foot even left the last step, gathering his older brother up in a crushing bear hug. He smiled against Dean’s shoulder. 

Dean closed his eyes, squeezing Sam tightly before stepping back to hold him at arm’s length. He cast a critical eye over his brother’s body before looking him in the eye. “You ok?”

Sam smiled giving him that weird, incredulous Sammy-look that betrayed the fact that he didn’t believe either of them was still alive. “Yeah. I’m good. Dude, what happened to you?”

Dean gave Sam’s shoulder a rough pat before heading over to the liquor cabinet in the library to pour them both some of the Men of Letters’ best scotch. “I met the Big Man Upstairs.”

“Wait, you died?!” Sam hurried to Dean’s side.

“Not exactly,” he said reassuringly as he handed Sam a glass and ushered him over to the reading table where the brothers proceeded to share their vastly different experiences during the last trial. Dean told Sam about Limbo, his chat with God, and God’s agreement to fix things. He left out that Limbo looked like Sherlock Holmes’ apartment and that God had granted him several wishes. He was happy to let everybody think that whatever came to be with Sam, Jimmy, Cas, and the Trans was just a part of God’s fix. 

Sam explained how the trial went on for longer than he originally thought it would, but the whole time he felt a strange sense of peace and was never once worried about the outcome. The swirling mass of demons had raged overhead the entire time, but couldn’t seem to get to him. Finally, the demons were sucked back down to Hell. When it was over, he found himself standing outside the bunker’s blast door.

The brothers sat in companionable silence for several minutes, enjoying their drinks and being together again with nothing breathing down their necks for the moment.

The chorus of _Enter the Sandman_ broke the quiet. Dean furrowed a brow as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. The screen gave an unfamiliar number and displayed _Pontiac, IL_ instead of a person’s name.

“Hello?” Dean asked as Sam leaned forward in his chair. The brothers shared a look.

“Dean?” a familiar masculine voice said.

“Cas?” Dean frowned. Something about the voice didn’t sound quite right.

“No, it’s Jimmy. Jimmy Novak.”

His heart twisted, but he put on a smile as he pulled the phone away from his ear and hit the speaker button. Maybe God had really stuck to his word, though Dean still expected the other shoe to drop.

“Hey, Jimmy. How are you, man?”

“Hey, Jimmy!” Sam said leaning closer to the phone with a big grin.

“Hey, I’m…good.” Even through the phone, Jimmy’s smile was evident. “Look, I’m sure you guys are busy. Probably up to your necks in something I don’t want to know about. But, whatever you did, I just wanted to say thanks.”

“No problem. Take care of yourself,” Dean said trying to keep his voice from betraying the pain burning through his chest. 

“You too. Bye, Sam, Dean.”

The call ended. Dean set his phone down before resting his elbow against the table and propping his chin against his knuckles. That would probably be the last time he heard the voice that he associated with Castiel. The angel made Jimmy’s voice deeper and gruffer, but over the phone it might as well have been Castiel speaking.

“So, Jimmy’s got his body back.” Sam said softly.

“Back with his family and not riding the celestial comet known as Cas.” 

“What happened to Cas?” As far as Sam knew, the seraph had disappeared with angel tablet around the same time that Dean had driven off to distract the demons.

Dean just shrugged and picked at a scratch on the tabletop with his fingernail. “God said he could go back to Heaven. He isn’t stuck down here with us anymore.”

“You ok?” Sam rested his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” He insisted, offering his brother a smile that didn’t quite make it up to his eyes. The hunter wanted to happy for Castiel, happy that he had regained his rightful place as an Angel of the Lord in Heaven and was no longer bound to Dean’s pitiful excuse for a soul. 

“Speaking of Cas…” Sam trailed off letting his hand slip off his brother’s shoulder at the sudden rustle of feathers.

“Hello, Dean. Sam.”

Dean jerked back from the table at the sound. The dark-haired, trenchcoat wearing seraph stood in the doorway between the war room and the library with a serene little smile curving his lips. 

Both Winchesters stood up. Grinning, Sam walked forward and pulled Castiel into a hug. While Sam was happy to see the angel, Dean was pissed. He slammed his fist down on the tabletop and practically yelled, “Hell no! He promised!”

Sam spun around to look at his brother, confusion and surprise lifting his brow.

Even Dean was a little surprised at his own anger, but anger had always been the easier emotion to deal with. He wouldn’t be able to recover if that little bit of hope that had flared up in his chest at the first sight of the trenchcoat-clad angel was crushed in some cruel twist.

Before Dean could say anything else, Castiel spoke up. “God kept his promise, Dean. Jimmy is fine. He’s at home right now with his wife and daughter, and they are very happy to have him back. You just spoke to him over the phone. That wasn’t a trick.”

“Then how are you…?” He didn’t know how to explain so he gestured vaguely at Castiel standing there in the doorway. His fingers itched to touch him, to tactilely confirm that he was really standing there. Finally he just threw up his hands. “You’re still wearing Jimmy.”

“This isn’t Jimmy.” Castiel stared at him in that all-too-familiar way that made Dean feel like all of his nerves were electrified. The seraph spread his arms with a little twitch of his mouth, before breaking his gaze to look rather proudly down the length of his own body. “This is a new vessel. My father created it for me. I chose for it look like Jimmy because it’s what I am accustomed to.”

When Dean didn’t look convinced, Castiel sighed. "You got your wishes, Dean.”

“Wait,” Sam interrupted. “Wishes?”

Castiel furrowed a brow at Sam and spoke before Dean could stop him. “Yes. God granted your brother his deepest desires in return for all he has done.”

Sam turned a bitch-face to his brother. “Was there something you forgot to mention earlier, Dean?”

Dean groaned and turned his back on both of them as he walked over to the liquor cabinet with his empty glass. “Alright, alright. In addition to God fixing things, he let me make a few requests.”

Sam crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring Castiel who came to stand at his side. “Such as?”

Dean toyed with the stopper in the crystal decanter, but didn’t pour himself another drink. When he finally answered Sam, it came out in a rush. “That you’d get your apple pie life, Cas would get to go back to Heaven, Jimmy would go back to his family, the Trans would go back their lives, and Benny’s and Adam’s souls would get to go to Heaven.”

Sam’s face softened and his long legs took him over to his brother for a second crushing hug.

Dean endured the hug for two seconds before shrugging out of Sam’s grasp. “Ok, ok. Get off me, you big girl.”

Sam rolled his eyes before looking over to Castiel. “So, the things that Dean asked for, God granted them? Even Benny and Adam?”

Castiel nodded. “I personally saw to Adam’s extraction from the cage and Benny’s release from Purgatory.”

Dean was torn between relief that Adam and Benny were in Heaven and guilt that the angel had gone back to Purgatory and Hell because of him.

The angel turned an exasperated blue gaze to the older hunter. “I volunteered for the job and had backup. Do not blame yourself. It’s a very bad habit of yours.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but just snapped his jaw closed again. The three of them stood in awkward silence for several seconds. Castiel stared intently at Dean. Dean refused to look at his brother or the angel. And, Sam kept glancing between Dean and Castiel with an amused look on his face.

Finally Castiel broke the silence. “Oh, God sent some things for both of you.”

The angel dug into the inner pocket of his trenchcoat and pulled out a stack of large envelopes that he then handed to Sam. 

Sam’s eyes widened as he opened the first envelope and pulled out a letter. “I got accepted back in to Stanford.”

“And the University of Kansas, Harvard, Northwestern, and Duke.” Castiel added as he nodded to the other envelopes. “If there is somewhere else you’d prefer, just let me know.”

"No, no. This is…wow. This is awesome.” Sam said flashing a grin to his brother and the angel.

A little smile tugged at the corner of Dean’s mouth as he watched his brother sit down at one end of the table to begin pouring over the acceptance letters. Sam leaving for school again would be hard, but it wouldn’t be as hard as it was all those years ago when he ran out after the big fight with their dad. Dean already missed him, even though he was just a few feet away, but he was truly happy that his brother had the chance to pick up where he left off.

“I have something for you as well, Dean.” Castiel pushed back his trenchcoat to reach into the right-hand pocket of his suit pants. With a jangle, he pulled the Impala’s keys from his pocket and held them out for the hunter.

Dean’s eyes widened as he wrapped his fingers around his keys. “Please tell me…”

“God said she was in ‘mint condition’,” Castiel interrupted, using air quotes with a hint of laughter in his eyes. “He said that the least he could do was fix the Impala since you hadn’t asked for anything specifically for yourself.”

That statement earned Dean yet another bitch-face from Sam, but he ignored it as he exhaled with relief. He loved working on the Impala, but building her from scratch again would have been a bitch, and he hated driving some piece of crap while she was being repaired. He squeezed the keys firmly in his hand before stuffing them into his pocket.

After Sam rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his admissions papers, Dean looked to Castiel and nodded to a far corner of the library where two leather club chairs were obscured by the bookshelves. The angel silently followed the hunter’s lead, taking a seat while Dean took three beers from the mini-fridge. He twisted the cap off of one bottle and left it on the table next to Sam’s elbow before walking over to sit with Castiel.

Dean offered one of the beers to Castiel as he sat down. He sipped quietly at his drink, trying to figure out what to say and how to say it. Glancing out of the corner of his eyes, he saw that the angel was simply sitting with his hands wrapped around the still unopened bottle of beer. Castiel's eyes were focused down, though Dean couldn’t tell if he was actually looking at anything. The hunter broke the silence by asking, “Did you get a big Heavenly welcome back party?”

“I have been forgiven, but there are still plenty of my brethren who are unhappy with my past actions. So, no, there was no party.” The angel scraped at the corner of the beer label with his thumbnail before turning cool blue eyes over to Dean. “I can go back to Heaven without fear of being punished and my Grace has been fully returned to me. For that I’m very grateful.”

“Then, why are you here?” Dean looked at him uncertainly. “You can go back to being a badass soldier of the Lord.”

"Sam is going to be busy with school. Hell is closed and Heaven’s problems are being dealt with internally, but there are still supernatural elements roaming Earth. I am fully capable of helping you.” Castiel’s eyes flickered down and back up so quickly that Dean almost missed the motion. “You said you need me.”

He made the confession when he thought Castiel was about to kill him, and though the angel could easily get inside his head and poke around behind the walls he had tried to build up, he didn’t want to die without telling Castiel what he meant to him on his own accord. His voice was strained when he finally found it again. “You don’t have to stay.”

Castiel’s gaze traced over the hunter’s face for several moments before he replied. “God let me keep my free will. I’ve chosen to stay here with you.”

Dean’s fingers tightened on his bottle. He worried that he was reading too much into what the seraph was saying. “Cas…”

“I need you, too, Dean,” Castiel said softly, suddenly standing in front of Dean with his palm tenderly cupping the hunter’s jaw.

Dean surged up to his feet, letting his beer bottle crash to the floor as his hands planted themselves on either side of the angel’s…no, his angel’s face. With his eyes shut tight, he kissed Castiel so desperately, that it was a miracle the impact of their lips didn’t cause teeth to shatter. His fingertips dug into Castiel’s stubbled jaw and he was sure he was leaving bruises, but he couldn’t soften his hold. He needed to cling, to stake his claim, to make sure Castiel didn’t go. The logical part of his brain started screaming at him to stop and just as he was about to pull back, he felt Castiel’s arms wrapping around behind him with one hand sliding up to press against the back of his neck, pulling him into the angel’s equally urgent return kiss. The little voice in his head was immediately silenced.

“Dammit, Dean, those books are irreplace – oh!” Sam had heard the wet splatter on the floor as the bottle smashed to pieces when Dean dropped it and looked up expecting to see his brother standing over a puddle of beer. When he saw Dean and Castiel locked together, the younger hunter slapped the tabletop with his palm and laughed. “Took you two long enough!”

The hunter and his angel simultaneously smirked against the other’s lips. Dean blushed bright under his freckles as he leaned back, never taking his eyes off Castiel. His thumbs rubbed along the other man’s cheeks. Castiel’s blue eyes shone at him with an intense, burning light he had never seen before. The honesty, trust, faith, and love in that look stunned him. Dean felt as though his battered soul was suddenly scrubbed clean of everything that had ever tarnished it. The pieces of his soul that Castiel had carefully, but imperfectly pieced back together after raising him from Hell were whole again, the shreds fused with part of the angel’s Grace that he gave to Dean and Dean wholeheartedly accepted. For a moment, he was completely lost, unable to respond to his brother and barely able to breathe.

When the overwhelming awareness that he loved Castiel and his love was returned settled warm and deep in his chest, Dean blinked letting his eyes fall from the angel’s eyes to his kiss swollen lips. It was a good look on the other man, and the corner of Dean’s mouth twitched at the thought.

Dean loosened his grip on Castiel, letting one hand slide down the angel’s arm to entwine with his long fingers. He dug his keys out of his pocket with the other hand. “Wanna go for a ride?”

Castiel smiled and replied with a nod. “I’d like that.”

As the hunter and his angel passed by Sam, he grinned up at them and teased, “Curfew at midnight, you two.”

Castiel furrowed a brow about to retort, but Dean beat him to it with a smirk for his little brother. “Don’t wait up, Sammy.”

Upstairs and outside in the waning daylight, Dean gave his baby a quick once over. She wasn’t quite mint condition from the factory – S.W. and D.W. were still carved into the backdoor – but that was perfectly okay. With a sigh, he rested his hand against the Impala’s roof and turned to look at Castiel who stood a few feet away watching the hunter’s reunion with his most prized possession.

Dean stepped over to the angel, wrapping his arms tightly around his shoulders. He felt Castiel’s arms loop around his waist, one hand coming up to press at his lower back. Their cheeks were pressed firmly together. Dean threaded his fingers through the short hairs at the back of the angel’s neck and inhaled deeply taking in the familiar, oddly comforting smell of ozone and clean linen. 

The hunter shivered as the angel whispered against his ear, “I’ll never leave you, Dean.”

His words were an absolute, undeniable truth that washed over Dean like a much needed downpour after a decade long drought. At that moment, he was far beyond being content – Dean Winchester was happy.

***

Decades later, after graduations, weddings, births, anniversaries, and other milestones the Winchester brothers never thought they’d ever see Castiel carried Dean’s soul to Heaven for one of the biggest Welcome Home celebrations ever.


End file.
